Sauce Money - Face Off 2000 lyrics

Intro: 2000, and it goes like. (uh huh, yeah yeah) Chorus: this goes out to my brooklyn crew Lay my game flat, what you wanna do Talk all night, are we gonna screw? I'm talking 'bout me and you Verse one: sauce money I like to push up on chicks like it's the last record Take 'em to the telly get buck pa**ed naked Let 'em feel the power, lick 'em if it don't taste sour Hit 'em in the shower for an hour Give 'em that feeling, sauce money for real and Let her get on top if there's mirrors on the ceiling Hit her so right that she wanna throw rice My device makes her say "damn, that n***a's nice!" Know i got wifey lay my cards when i pivot Pa** your seven digits if you're with it Sauce wanna give you the option for the boot knockin' Nine times outta ten it's on and poppin' Ain't no stopping victory's in the air Bring a friend next time let's do it again Bring your whole crew if you see through me And we can meet on the bqe And it goes like Chorus (2x) Verse two: sauce money, jay-z Sauce money: Had this b**h bragging, Sauce had his tongue between my thighs lally-gaggin; Huh, could you imagine Shaking your tail just like a dragon here comes my worse flame In the morning hot 97 the first thing (deny it) hell yeah y'all don't buy it I don't eat no kind of fish if you can't fry it But who knows maybe one day i'll try it But for now slow down too much lip is k**in' your diet Jay-z: Can i get it what - get it wet When he hit it first can i get it next, sh** you the best It ain't wack to be with both of us, mami actually I'm eddie kane jr., that n***a me! You want me to feel what he feel when it's tight And i know, he don't be doing it right But it gets no liver than this, never lie on our dicks sh**, we got n***a's rides on our wrists Play your cards right you'll be driving the 6 Shopping all day hoppin' out in the dist. Popping the crist., sh** hoppin' outta your wrist Popping your sh**, new york's hottest b**h >from the ghetto to the stilletto's But you gotta do it two times like an echo, y'all feelin' that This is how we run it down the line n***a sauce goes first jigga next to rhyme Chorus (2x) Verse three: jay-z, sauce money Jay-z I see you got a lot to get off your chest Coat, blouse, bra-don't talk me to d**h Like murder's on your mind mami, off the dress Jigga ran game 'til i lost my breath Sauce money Last thing i need to know is what it costs for s** What you need to know is if i lost respect Don't have to worry if you do sauce correct I'ma bless that, bring my whole crew through, don't even sweat that Jay-z: uh, dime pieces i'm hittin' Sauce money: four in the morning frosted flakes in your kitchen Jay-z: now you want me to start trickin' i suppose Sauce money: that's when the first face off kicks in- "we don't love these hoes!" Chorus (2x)